


Home is Where the Heart Is

by canistakahari



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Cats, Domestic, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Pets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-10
Updated: 2012-10-10
Packaged: 2017-11-16 01:27:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/533957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/canistakahari/pseuds/canistakahari
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bones is a soft touch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Home is Where the Heart Is

**Author's Note:**

  * For [secretsolitaire](https://archiveofourown.org/users/secretsolitaire/gifts).



There’s a cat on the doorstep when Jim shows up with steaming bags of take-out on Friday night.   
  
It’s large and fluffy and very, very ginger, and it winds between his legs and  _mrows_  at him before mincing off down the corridor.   
  
Jim shifts the paper bags to one shoulder and palms the door chime.   
  
“Hey,” says Jim, as the door slides open to reveal Bones, still in his scrubs from the hospital, looking like he just got in himself. “What’s with the cat?”  
  
“What cat?” says Bones, relieving Jim of the bags of food when he passes them over.   
  
Jim kicks off his sneakers and points out into the hallway. “The orange one.”  
  
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” replies Bones in that dismissive tone of voice that means he’s finished with this line of conversation. “Did you get an extra portion of beef chow mein?”  
  
Jim rolls his eyes. “Of course. Listening to you whine about it last week was exactly how I wanted to spend my evening.”  
  
“Pardon me if I don’t like that orange sweet-and-sour crap you always get,” retorts Bones, shuffling into his apartment and depositing the food on the table. Now get your ass inside so we can eat, goddammit.”  
  


oOo

  
  
He nearly trips over the saucer of milk.   
  
It’s sitting directly beside the rubber mat Bones has laid out in front of his door.  
  
“Milk is bad for cats,” says Jim, in lieu of a greeting, when the door opens to reveal a rumpled Bones with bedhead and pillow creases on his face.  
  
“What?” barks Bones, squinting at Jim. “What are you talking about?”  
  
Jim points to the saucer by his door. “Milk. It’s bad for cats.”  
  
“That’s not mine,” says Bones impatiently. “Why would that be mine? And why are you here?”  
  
“Because I love you so much I can’t live without seeing you at least every four hours,” says Jim, with a big grin. “My cock throbs with wanton desire at the merest thought of you and your delectable ass.”  
  
Bones blinks at him slowly. “Don’t ever say that to me again. Come in, asshole.”  
  


oOo

  
  
Jim hits the jackpot next Wednesday.  
  
When he turns the corner into the medical housing block he stops short about fifteen feet from Bones’s front door.   
  
“You like that tuna fish, huh,” Bones is saying from where he’s crouched sock-footed on the threshold, the door open behind him, stroking the fluffy ginger cat from tufty ears to crooked bottle-brush tail. The cat is bent intently over a little bowl of food and eating with noisy enthusiasm. “That’s a good boy. Listen to you. Like a rusty motor. Bet someone misses you, sugar. Why don’t you get on home? Huh? You can’t be sticking around just for my charm and good looks.”  
  
The cat finishes with the tuna and mews loudly, butting his head against Bones’s hand. Bones chuckles. “C’mere, then,” he says indulgently, scooping up the cat into his arms and tucking him against his shoulder. As he straightens up, his gaze falls on Jim, and his cheeks flush pink. “Uh, Jim. Hey.”  
  
Jim can’t help grinning as he ambles over, reaching out to ruffle the cat’s pointy ears when he reaches Bones. “Still don’t know what I’m talking about?”  
  
“He was hungry,” says Bones defensively.  
  
“Do I look like I’m making fun of you?” asks Jim, rubbing the cat under his furry chin. “You name him yet?”  
  
“No,” says Bones. “Because I ain’t keeping him. I put up a ‘lost cat’ bulletin. He’s got a collar, but the tags got ripped off. Somebody’s looking for him, I bet.” Jim translates the subtext into  _I’m not getting attached to him and then setting myself up for disappointment when I have to give him away._  
  
“What if nobody claims him?”  
  
Bones’s expression turns stricken. “Well—”  
  
“You could name him Peaches,” interrupts Jim. “And he could sleep on your cold feet.”  
  
Bones huffs a sigh and Jim knows he’s already about 80% convinced to keep the cat. “We’ll see.”  
  
Jim leans in to kiss Bones’s pouty mouth, pressing a warm, insistent tongue between his lips until Bones relents, making a soft noise of pleasure. “He’s lucky he found you, Bones,” says Jim quietly when they’ve pulled apart, standing in the hall with their foreheads touching.  
  
“Yeah, yeah. You coming in or what?”  
  
Bones carries the cat inside with them.


End file.
